


This is Good

by little_abyss



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Developing Relationship, Family Feels, M/M, Musicians, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver Hawke meets his new drum tech.  Things go well, for a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Earlgreyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/gifts).



> Because this work is not canon to Bright Wastelands, Full of Noise I've elected not to include it with Tour Edition. However, if you've been following Wastelands, you'll see some familiar faces here too. The title is from the Black Flag song, [This is Good](https://open.spotify.com/track/30LQSr58QsfF6no1HabIMb) (from the album _Who's got the 10 1/2?_ , 1986)

Carver rolls his eyes.  Al grins in a hangdog way and says,  “C’mon.  He’s new.  And he’s barely a mage.  Is that what you’re bothered about?”

“No,” Carver replies sulkily, then folds his arms over his chest.  “I don’t have a problem with mages.  All the Hawkes are magic, remember?”

“Yeah,” Al smiles sympathetically, “I remember.”  _ I remember that you’re not _ , Carver hears it as, and narrows his eyes.  It’s a near thing, but he holds his tongue - the one thing he beats Tal at, hands down.  He pushes thoughts of his older brother aside - Fader is a thing of the past for him now, and he’s not going to mess up this good thing with Last Warden Standing.  He’s just  _ not _ , even if they do have a tendency to treat him like a kid, even if they do spring this kind of shit on him without even so much as a fucking  _ please. _

 

He huffs out a breath.  “I just… I always do my own tech.  I don’t need anyone else.”

“Spoken like a true punk,” Al grins at him and brushes his hand distractedly over his hair, or what little of it there is.  The weak Denerim sunlight shines through the warehouse windows, catching in the strands of hair, making it glimmer like spun gold.  “You don’t have to let him do it all, you know.  Just think of him like… insurance.  If something fucks up, you can blame him, and Fortress will buy you a new kit.  See?  Perfect!”  Al smiles again, and spreads his hands.  “S’not that bad, Carv.  He seems nice.  Come on and meet the little guy.”

 

“Alright,” Carver acquiesces, and unfolds his arms.  He doesn’t like this one bit.  But maybe it’s not the tech.  Maybe it’s him, still feeling odd about being so far from his family.  It’s the first time he’s ever really been out of Taliesin’s shadow, the first time he’s ever not lived in the same city as Mother.  Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.  Al or Jean would have a problem with him saying it, Al’s always bloody blabbering on about Gwen and that, but… you don’t grow up with a brother like Taliesin and not develop something of an issue with admitting weakness.  He rubs the newest tattoo on his chest, the one word,  _ Bethany _ , just under his clavicle, and tries not to think of her.  He follows Al.

 

There is a dark haired man looking at his kit, his lips pursed.  Carver frowns, wondering who the hell gave him permission to come back here, when Al holds his arm out toward this guy and says, “Fee-fee!  Here’s Carv!”

“That’s quite an introduction,” this guy, shit, he’s… kind of pretty for a tech, he looks over his shoulder and smiles wryly at Al.  He looks at Carver, turning the full force of that… damnit, not  _ kind of pretty  _ but  _ downright fucking gorgeous _ gaze on Carver, who swallows.  “Carver Hawke.  I’m Felix Alexius.  I’m your new tech.”

 

“Hey,” Carver says gruffly, and shakes Felix’s proffered hand.  Felix’s hand is warm, dry, and Carver suddenly feels very hot, very sweaty, and very, very young.  He doesn’t know what to say.  He just stares at Felix, wanting to say something, completely tongue tied, and Felix returns his gaze, at first puzzled, then worried. “So,” Al says, gesturing to the door, “I’ll just… uh, leave you two to get better acquainted, shall I?” He laughs, “No sense in me upping the awkward factor in the room.”  He laughs again, nervously, then turns and strides out.

 

“Maker,” Carver mutters to himself, and Felix laughs.  The sound of it is bright and completely without guile or malice.  “He really was awkwarding everything up,” Felix says lightly, “But then again, I suspect that might be just… what Al does.”

“Yeah,” Carver says, and rubs the back of his neck, thinking  _ not like I need any help with that _ .  The room is quiet once more, and Felix shuffles a little before looking at Carver again.  “So..?  Do you want to show me around this beautiful kit of yours?”

 

-|||-

 

An hour and a half later, and they’re only halfway through discussing the snare.  Carver had been reticent at first, both not wanting to bore Felix with the details of his kit and not wanting to appear a fool in the face of much greater technical knowledge.   _ He’s gotta be faking it _ , he thinks to himself when he notices Felix’s expression, one of avid interest.  This is the first kit that he hasn’t had to build up himself from scratch, nicking a bit here, swapping or reconditioning another bit there.  The rep from Fortress Records just took him to a factory and… set him loose.  It was amazing.  There was never enough money for new drums with Fader; well, there never would be, because they just used to piss it away every weekend. But those days are behind him, left with the rest of Fader back in Kirkwall.  Last Warden Standing is where it’s at for him, but he’s really not even thinking of the bigger picture at the moment, probably couldn’t even remember the name of his present band if he was asked.  Because at the moment, everything comes back to Felix - the lift of his eyebrows, the tilt of his head, like a curious bird.  The sweet way his lip curls when Carver waxes lyrical about his double kick.  That lovely dark hair, the elegance of his hand gestures.   _ Get it together, little brother, _ Taliesin mocks him in his head, and Carver frowns.

 

They continue talking.  Felix’s asking a lot of questions, pointing out details that Carver himself hadn’t even thought of.  He feels as if he says the phrase, “I don’t know…” at least six hundred times, and it must be obvious, because when he says it after Felix asks him when he last had new skins, Felix puts his hand on his arm and

 

Felix’s hand is on his arm.

 

_ Felix’s hand. _

_ Carver’s arm. _

 

“It’s alright,” Felix is smiling at him, his hand sitting there on Carver’s forearm like it is the most natural thing in the world.  “You don’t have to know everything.  You know how to play, and perform, which is more than I can do.  I’m here to help you do what you do better.  Think of me as a functionary.”  He seems to notice that Carver has gone very quiet and is staring at his hand, and he pulls it away quickly, his facial expression shifting to one of apology.  “I didn’t mean…” he begins.

 

“It’s okay, it’s good, I don’t mind,” Carver cuts him off, then blushes.  Fuck.   _ He’s meant to work for you _ , his mind gibbers,  _ Unprofessional, dude!  Don’t screw the crew! _ Oh Maker, no, just that phrase sends mental images coursing through his head, his body - Felix’s hands twisted into white sheets, a slick of sweat on that perfect brow, a drop of Carvers’ come on his bottom lip, shining like a pearl in the low light of a hotel room.   _ Shit, oh shit, _ he thinks, and bites the inside of his cheek,  _ That’s it, they’re gonna fire you from this gig, you’ll have to crawl back to Fader or spend the rest of your life working at Mac Tir’s or something.  Fuck, Carv!  Way to fuck it all up! _

 

But Felix is smiling at him, gently.  Silently, he returns his hand to Carver’s arm, rubbing a circle on Carver’s flesh with his thumb.  He takes a deep breath, and says, “Well.  If you don’t mind, I certainly don’t.”  His smile broadens, and he asks, “So?  Did I pass the audition?”

“Yeah,” Carver murmurs, smiling back, “This is good.  You’re good, I mean.”

Felix chuckles.  “Good,” he repeats, and his eyes sparkle, “Because I think I’m going to like working with you.”


End file.
